


Sour

by tinycrown



Series: The King's Advisors [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Post Legion, Pre Before The Storm, ambiguous ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23548570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinycrown/pseuds/tinycrown
Summary: “Are you alright?” He asked, watching with concern as he practically gulped the whole glass down in seconds.
Relationships: Genn Greymane & Anduin Wrynn
Series: The King's Advisors [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694797
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	Sour

Anduin tapped the soft, smooth feather of the quill against his chapped, bitten lips. He stared down at the half-completed letter and rested his cheek against his palm, wondering how long it would take for the correspondence to be sent once he had actually managed to stop wasting time and put ink to parchment. The words seemed lost to him, unsure of how to even think of what he could say in a manner that would not be misunderstood. 

He gave a long sigh and leaned back from his stiff, hunched position. The quill was placed perpendicular to the parchment, and he stretched his arms over his head, cracking a few firm joints and pressing his hands against the small of his back to relieve some of the tension in sore muscles. Anduin tilted his head back and flicked his gaze to the window, surprised that it was so dark already. The entire city was near sleep, and Anduin figured that he should have been nearing that as well. 

How long had he been sitting there, staring at a half-assed letter? 

He scowled and crumpled the paper, standing abruptly and nearly jamming his knee into the corner of the desk as he stumbled from the sudden change in position. White dotted his vision as he leaned against the sturdy oak desk for support, blinking rapidly to regain his sight, and giving his body a minute to adjust to the sudden change.

Once he had regained his balance, he tossed the crumpled letter into the hearth and then collapsed back into the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. He shucked his boots off, reaching back over his head to unclasp his heavy chestguard, letting it slide off of his chest as he placed it on his desk and curled up again, left in his overcoat.

Anduin sat there, quiet and tired and opening his mouth only to yawn. All was calm, the hearth crackling and warm, logs snapping and whining as they were burned away. He could hear footsteps occasionally in the hall, passing back and forth, the gentle clink of armor shifting. The sound of the guards clearing their throats occasionally, sometimes making small talk, sometimes a yawn. 

The candelabras were burning strong, but with a flick of his wrist the ones hung on the walls snuffed themselves out in an instant. Only a few small candles on his desk and the fire in the hearth were his light. He tucked his foot under his leg and sighed, closing his eyes.

Anduin didn’t want to return to his chambers. They weren’t  _ his,  _ they were Father’s. They would always  _ be  _ Father’s chambers, and he wasn’t going to sleep in there willingly. It felt wrong without him there, without him  _ here.  _ It didn’t help that the room reminded Anduin of him. When he was young he’d crawl under the covers during a thunderstorm or after a nightmare and hide with the man who always protected him from danger. Father would pull him close and rarely say anything, just hold him, and sleep. 

It didn’t help that everything still held his scent. He’d bury his face into the pillows that still smelled like his shampoo, the blankets that held the metallic and wood-fire scent. Yet no matter how many times the sheets and blankets and pillow covers were washed, the scent remained. It was comforting and upsetting at the same time. 

He didn’t like to feel the confusion. Wanting to cry from grief or happiness? Which one made the most sense? Was he happy he still had a part of his father that wasn’t Shalamayne? Yes. Could he handle it? No. 

His head snapped up as his door opened, a small knock on the frame. 

“Hello, Genn.” He said just loud enough to hear, a soft smile crossing his face. Genn was dressed down, just a white collared shirt and slacks with his boots. He had a faint smile on his face that Anduin hadn’t seen in a long time. With his sleeves rolled up to reveal his hairy, scarred arms, it made it easy to see the pair of wine glasses he held between his fingers and a bottle tucked against his elbow. 

With a quiet clank, the items he’d brought were on the desk, and Genn was sitting in the cushioned chair just in front of his desk. He had a furry brow raised as if he was expecting Anduin to begin talking like the reckless chatterbox he was in private. 

Instead, he stood up in his seat and sat in the one next to his advisor. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, tugging his feet up onto the chair. He saw Genn eye his bootless feet, but refused to say anything as he uncorked the bottle and poured a dark red liquid into the glass halfway. 

“I figured after everything you could use a good drink.” He said gruffly, handing the glass to Anduin, cradling it so uncharacteristically careful. Anduin grimaced and stared down into the dark liquid. Everything. Everything that happened. The calm aftermath of the Legion’s invasion, what could be considered ‘calm’. He was just glad he didn’t have to sleep with Shalamayne in his hands. The Illidari were diligent… but the influx of demons could be considered too much, even for them. Anduin didn’t  _ blame  _ them for not preventing every single demon from escaping their watch. If anything, he blamed himself for not being able to defend himself better, and the people around him. 

“Thank you.” He replied softly, bringing the glass to his lips. He wasn’t even eighteen yet, just a few weeks off, though it hadn’t exactly been the first time he’d tasted the sweet yet bitter taste of wine. It was cold and slid down his throat smoothly. The taste of tart grapes made him press his lips together and swallow down the taste even though the liquid was already down his throat. It lingered, and he didn’t know if he liked it or not. 

Anduin yawned again and held the glass close to his chest as he curled up, ready to fall asleep at any given moment. The alcohol would help. 

“How are you feeling?” Anduin found himself speaking again just before he took another sip, wincing at the liquid pushed against a small cut on his lip. 

“I’m as fine as ever, your majesty.” Genn replied, his own glass already half gone. Anduin raised a brow, but didn’t comment. 

“You bring me alcohol… and then speak to me formally? Come now, Genn, you know my name,” He said off-handedly, shifting to face him more directly. The older king looked amused, and within minutes his glass, clutched between calloused, trembling fingers, was refilled. Anduin frowned. “Are you alright?” He asked, watching with concern as he practically gulped the whole glass down in seconds. 

He put his empty glass down on the desk and nodded, avoiding his gaze as he stared straight forward. 

“Genn,” Anduin said softly, reaching over the small gap and placing a hand on his arm. “Is something wrong?” He rubbed his thumb across a new scar, pink and rigid. He only looked at it for a few seconds before Genn’s hand covered his own and squeezed shakily. 

“No,” he said, brows furrowed, shaking his head. “No. Nothing’s wrong.” 

**Author's Note:**

> New Series! Yay 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!   
> <3


End file.
